


The Devil May Cry

by portrait9122



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Rewrite, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual enemies to lovers, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portrait9122/pseuds/portrait9122
Summary: Katniss and Johanna have always been connected. Ever since Johanna was reaped and became a victor, Katniss has thought of her constantly. Despite what goes on in their separate worlds, Johanna has been an anchor in Katniss' tumultuous life, but does Johanna feel the same about Katniss?Katniss' POV and basically a series of one shots until the events of Catching Fire. The title is from The Weeknd's song from the Catching Fire soundtrack. I also made a Spotify playlist and the song is on there, so I'll put that link in the notes :)
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen & Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Everdeen & Johanna Mason, Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen/Johanna Mason
Comments: 12
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written a fanfic before, so don't be too hard on me :) I just think there's a lot of potential for Katniss and Johanna, and I low-key thought they should have ended up together in the books... lol I just hope y'all like it !! More chapters on the way <3
> 
> Here's the Spotify link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/02Wjum3ec4rZqLxJIhZm5b?si=pJ8pIwf8Q_6XhjYYo6piqw

No one ever tells you what it’s like the first time you get reaped. It’s devastatingly quiet. The sounds of shuffling feet and peacekeepers ordering me and the rest of the children into our lines like cattle are the only things I can hear.

No one speaks. It’s like we’re all collectively holding our breath, praying it isn’t us. It isn’t our sibling. It’s not our friend, not our love. I tighten my hands into fists until the knuckles turn white. I’m absolutely terrified.

Prim stands behind everyone, gripping onto our mother’s dress. _She’s holding on for dear life_ , I think. She’s always been keen to how others are feeling. Her empathy, her compassion; I fear for her when she gets older. Will the games destroy her kindness like it’s done with the rest of us? I can’t think straight, until the peacekeeper asks for my name, pricks my finger, and pushes me ahead.

I slink into my spot, front row. I’m with the youngest, all of us twelve years old. I search for Gale in the other side of the lines. He’s filling into his place when he sees me. He looks worried, but who doesn’t? I nod at him. He nods back but looks right through me. He’s angry with me again.

We were hunting earlier this morning, before this bullshit all began. He said we could run, and I naturally protested. He was only thirteen. I’m only twelve. We both know the games, how we live, it’s all wrong, but what would happen if we left? We don’t know how to live out beyond the borders yet, and we couldn’t leave our siblings here to struggle alone. That’s when he tried to kiss me, and I shoved him away. I can’t tell if he’s mad about my reaction to running or the kiss. Just the thought of kissing him sends a shiver down my spine, and then I remember where I am and what’s about to happen. I stare at my feet, hands tightening again.

Effie soon comes onto the stage, with her funny capital accent and reminds us all of our own poverty. She’s young, dressed impeccably, and I hate her. I can't stand the way she presents the games to be this beautiful, grand thing, when all it does it reduce children down to their most primal instincts. They think we’re animals, and I can feel myself slipping into the rage I am so used to. I feel like running onto the stage and screaming at everyone to snap out of it and end this bullshit once and for all, but all I can do is let a single tear run down my cheek.

My father would say these are dangerous thoughts and to keep them to myself. My father was akin to dangerous thoughts, and he taught me to stifle them down, to not let the fire burn too bright. Not to let them all see how angry I am. I let the flame inside dwindle, but it never really goes out. I wipe the tear from my cheek. _Not here_ , I think to myself. _I can’t let them have it_.

I don’t look up until Effie pulls the slip of paper out of the big glass bowl. _This is it_ , I think. It could all be over very soon, and I hold my head high, emotionless like statue. She opens the card slowly and calls a name. It’s not mine, thank god.

I see the girl Effie called walking slowly down the open clearing between the two groups. She’s older than me by two years. Everyone in the crowd has their head down, not giving any recognition to the girl who is about to die. I look at her malnourished figure. She’s expressionless, in shock maybe. _She’ll never make it_. I cringe at the thought. This is what the Capitol wants, to let us think we’re all expendable. That we’re animals awaiting slaughter, and I can’t let them win in this way either. As much as I want to be like the others, I don't. I hold my head up high and stare her down.

I do know her, in fact. She went to school with me. She always shied away from attention and hated being called on by the teacher. She was smart though. She always knew the answer. She even helped me with some math problems when I was just starting school.

Her eyes meet mine. We stare each other down, and I don’t know what to do. Say thank for helping me with my math one time so many years ago? I stand there, frozen, until I mouth “you can do this.” She shakes her head in response but holds my gaze. I mouth, “Just try to come home.” She nods and turns to the stage where Effie claps her hands. What I said is not enough, I know it, but at least she knows I see her. Maybe recognizing her is enough, and she will eventually come home. She has too, either as a victor or in a body bag.

I look across to the boys. Gale has his head down like coward. It boils my blood. He only thinks about himself nowadays. His father died in the same explosion that killed my own. Both of our lives changed after that, but I didn’t think he would lose himself and fall into the trap that the Capitol has laid out for all of us. As I turn my head back to the stage, I catch the eyes of a blue-eyed boy. His blond head immediately bows, like the rest of them, to avoid my gaze. _Was he staring the whole time_? It doesn’t matter because Effie’s moved onto the boys.

I do wish it not be Gale. I don’t want him gone. As much as we fight, I do need him to help feed my family, and thankfully, it’s not him. It’s an older boy, right in the back. He’s eighteen, and it’s not fair. He almost had his chance to live, and now another life is stolen by the Capitol. I look at the tribute, trying to catch his eyes and reassure him, but he never looks in the girls’ direction. I see the blue-eyed boy, his head held high. He’s mouthing something to him, but I can barely make it out. “You can do this. Just come home,” he says. I take a breath. I think of my father. Would he be proud of me for getting someone else to defy the Capitol and be a human being for once, or would he say “Katniss, those are dangerous thoughts, dangerous actions.” I don’t know what he would say to me. I need to stop looking for his approval. He’s never coming back, just like these tributes. Although in this moment, I do feel proud of myself. If I can get someone to think like a human and not like a Capitol puppet just for a second, then maybe I can make it through this Reaping.

Effie says some more bullshit, but I immediately shut her words out. _It’s just propaganda_ , I repeat over and over in my head. Soon enough the tributes are whisked away, and everyone starts to file out. I hold my position. That’s the last time anyone here will see them alive, and I hope they go quick and painlessly. I can’t watch them get tortured.

\-----

There’s mandatory viewing in the evenings, which is the worst part of the games. Every day they highlight all of the deaths, the betrayals, the spirals of humanity. I hate it more than anything, but it’s impossible to ignore it, so I watch it lazily with Prim by my side.

They pass through all of the Districts’ Reapings. District One and Two’s tributes smile wide throughout all of their footage. It makes my stomach flip over itself. Ceaser Flickerman bounces through the other Districts as if they don’t matter because in reality, they don’t. These tributes won’t survive long enough to beat out the careers, let alone win the entire thing. It’s sickening to watch more and more kids line up for their funeral until it gets to District Seven.

There’s a young girl called. She’s maybe 16, but it’s hard to tell. They call her name, and her head shoots up. Her eyes burn, and she snarls but only for the slightest moment until she turns white as ghost. I don’t think anyone noticed the sudden rage take over her, but I did. I can’t tell if her sudden terror is an act or if it’s a true response. Either way, I saw that flash of anger.

 _I like this girl_ , I thought to myself. She’s angry like me, except its worse for her now that she actually has to fight for her life. I see her in me, and for a moment, I’m transfixed on the beautiful, angry girl from seven being led to her death. I see her younger siblings reach out to her as she passes, and Prim nuzzles into me. _She must understand what this all means then_ , and I squeeze her closer. They call the boy tribute’s name, and it’s on to District Eight.

After the recap is finished, I lay awake in my bed. _Johanna, Johanna, Johanna_. I can’t get her out of my head. Her reel in anger and sudden deflation- I am intrigued by this girl. I see so much of herself in me, and it scares me. I ponder over the probability she’ll win the games, which are low. I am slowly drifting to sleep, but a sudden realization falls over me. I tense, stirring Prim in the bed with me. _I think I want her to win_.


	2. Johanna and her Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss watches as Johanna enters the games, and Katniss is deeply invested in the tribute's survival. 
> 
> While watching the games, a rift forms between Katniss and Gale, but the fight between them seems to be laden with a different issue at hand. Will Katniss understand why Gale is so angry with her? 
> 
> Later, the victory tour also comes to District Twelve, and Katniss finally lays eyes on Johanna.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks so much for reading the first chapter! Leave comments if you have any suggestions or ideas you want me to keep in mind :) 
> 
> Also, I wanted to add a little bit of context of why Snow kills Johanna's family, so I added in Katniss seeing a conversation with them. I know that on the wiki it says that Johanna refuses Snow's offer to basically become a prostitute like Finnick, so I tried to incorporate a situation like that. 
> 
> The events that happen in Johanna's games were inspired from meghantron's Game Theory, so check that out! The link is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854346/chapters/54624382 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I'm pretty much updating sporadically, but once I figure out a schedule for chapters, I'll let y'all know. More chapters soon <3

Every day passes so slowly, waiting for Johanna to make her appearance on screen. I had seen her at the tribute parade. She was radiant. Despite her literally being dressed as tree, I still felt drawn to her. Her quiet rage had permeated her countenance yet again that night. She was visibly uncomfortable, either because of the dress or the crowd’s attention, and the fire in her eyes returned for a brief moment. That snippet of her anger was enough sustenance to get me through the first couple of nights without any screen time of her. 

\---

I wait and wait, until the tributes are handed out their training scores. She receives a three, which is extremely low. _Maybe I overestimated her? Maybe I shouldn’t care so much about a girl I’ve never met and get heartbroken when she’s inevitably killed. Wait- heartbroken?_ It’s too much to bear sometimes, this new confusion. Johanna is perplexing in so many ways. She’s beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. She’s angry, yet timid in the limelight. She’s shy, yet confident in her strides. She confuses the hell out of me, let alone what I feel about her.

\---

On the fourth day of the recap, the games have long begun. I watch Johanna scream in agony over the loss of her District partner. She watched his murder in real time, saw the spear go through his chest. She holds him and wails, and suddenly her demeanor changes. It’s the opposite of the Reaping. She looks vengeful now, anger burning through her. A bloodlust has clouded her vision, and I hope she knows what she’s doing when she follows in the careers’ direction.

Gale is here, watching with me, and Prim’s at our feet. I put my hand to my side and slide forward toward the screen, watching intently. He laces his calloused fingers between mine, and I swat it away instinctively.

He grunts, and stares at me, waiting for a response. “Katniss? Katniss why are you so cold to me now,” he asks.

“What are you talking about?” My cheeks burn. I know what he wants from me, but I just can’t give it to him. My eyes bore into the screen as Johanna closes ground on the careers. “You haven’t spoke to me since the Reaping. Christ, you haven’t even looked away from the screen!”

He’s right. I haven’t torn my eyes away from Johanna, who is getting closer and closer to the career pack. She closes the space, and Gale, Prim, and I sit in silence. I hold my breath. In a matter of minutes, Johanna has killed all four career tributes on her own. The girl throws her bloodied axe into the ground, and screams. It curdles my blood, and I feel something stir in my chest.

“Katniss why do you care so much about this stupid girl anyway? So what if she wins?” Gale practically yells. Prim glares at him from the carpet below us. _My little defender._ She hates it when people yell, especially when it’s directed at me.

“I don’t know Gale. She just- I don’t know.” I stammer through, but it’s true. I don’t know why I am so interested in her. We all sit in silence, only Johanna's screams fill the air.

I start to cry as Johanna screams louder and louder. She pounds the ground, bloodying her fists, and I reach toward the screen. Johanna doesn’t know it, but I’m with her. Gale stands abruptly. “Katniss, if this is who you are, don’t keep me around.” He leaves quickly, slamming the rickety door shut. _What does he mean if this is who I am? What, that I’m interested in a girl that thinks like me?_

I’m furious with Gale, but part of me wishes I could just give him what he wants. I can’t though, and I don’t know why. I can’t imagine getting married to him, which is what all the ladies in the Seam whisper about when we return from hunting. I can’t even think of kissing him. I see him only as a friend and nothing else, and I think he’s starting to hate me for it.

\---

Eventually, the games end. Johanna kills the final tribute in a swift decapitation. It was ruthless yet merciful. Later, I watch as she’s given her crown by President Snow. She's dressed in a suit made out of fabric that looks like a tree. She's radiant, yet again, and I can't take my eyes off of her. The crown is placed on her head as they speak to one another. They exchange some words, and I see fear fill Johanna as she seems to yell “No!” I can’t hear it though, and I don’t understand why she would react that way to him _. Other than the fact that he’s responsible for murdering the District’s children for the last 50 years_ , I think to myself. Snow flashes a smile at her, and the camera pans away as he leaves the stage.

The camera returns to a clearly disheveled Johanna. She looks terrified, but not like the times she was faking it her for her strategy. The fear in her eyes is real, yet she flashes a thankful smile to Caesar Flickerman before almost running off stage. _I wonder what he said to her._ My heart reaches out to Johanna, which has happened too many times to count now. I wish I could be there for her. I wish I could punch Snow in the mouth for he said to her. I wish I could just hold her hand and tell her it’s going to be alright. I wish so many things when it comes to Johanna.

\---

When the victory tour comes around, I am strangely excited to see the victor. Johanna stands in all her glory as I watch from the front row. I was here less than a month ago awaiting my possible death, and yet, here I am now, edging closer to the stage where she stands.

Johanna is nestled between some peacekeepers, dressed in a simple green dress. Her hair is tied in single braid that runs down her back, which looks like mine. That makes me smile. _Maybe we have similar tastes._

She seems wrought with grief, much like I looked when my father died. She looks so small on that big stage. _Like a child_ , I think to myself, and she is. The games have a funny way of making tributes seem older, aged by the events that unfold in the arena, but Johanna seems to have undergone the opposite effect. She visibly shakes, her hands twitching ever so slightly. She rubs the edge of her dress in between her fingers anxiously. _Maybe she’s just nervous?_ But I doubt that thought in my head. She doesn’t seem like the type for nervousness. _Something else must be going on_ , I think to myself, and my mind starts to whirl at the possibilities. Each reason worse than the next.

She steps to the microphone and shares the briefest of speeches, probably written by her escort or mentor. Her voice shakes as she stumbles over the words. When she finishes, she scans the crowd, an awkward silence falling onto all of us. After what seems like minutes of silence, her eyes fall onto mine. She smiles ever so slightly, but I can see her pain. _She’s trying to be brave_ ; I think to myself. I say aloud, “you did what you had to do. Don’t blame yourself for it,” before I can stop myself. She nods, releases a breath she looks like she didn’t know she was holding, and is quickly escorted off the stage. A peacekeeper gives me shove and tells me to shut it. I don’t care though, it’s not my first run in with a peacekeeper and it certainly won’t be my last.

I watch Johanna’s dress flutter as the door closes behind her. I wish I could have said more to her, but just like the now dead female tribute from twelve, maybe that recognition would be enough for now.

As I walk home, a bruise forming where the peacekeeper had shoved me, I can’t get her face out of my head. Her pained half smile, her eyes staring into my own. She was right there in front of me, and it fills my stomach with butterflies. I almost jump at the feeling. _Nobody has ever made me feel that way before._

I fall asleep with Johanna on my mind. “Today was weird”, I whisper to myself. It’s almost as if I miss her now, lying in bed with Prim, but that’s the last that I see and hear of the beautiful victor for years.


	3. The Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss has been reaped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games.
> 
> On her way to the Capitol, a conversation with Haymitch and Peeta illuminate parts of her past. This new revelation doesn't shock Katniss, and she questions her current feelings about the victor from District Seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!!! Happy New Year! I hope all of you stay safe and healthy during these wild times! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this! I really appreciate it. Please leave a comment with your ideas or any suggestions for me, as this is my first time writing a fic :) 
> 
> Again, thank you guys and enjoy :D

Walking into the dining car, I notice Peeta and Haymitch discussing something over their breakfast. As I close in, I hear them. They’re talking survival skills, but I don’t listen. I don’t need them. I’ve been practically living out in the woods since I turned twelve.

I stomp over to the table, each step imbued with ferocity and agitation. “Good morning sweetheart,” Haymitch slurs. I don’t bother responding, and I give him a scathing glare instead. “Somebody’s still angry. Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” I could punch him. My blistering rage has not ceased since Prim’s name was called and I volunteered to take her place. I’ve never felt angrier in my life.

The opulence of the train makes my stomach turn as I sit to join them. They pause, analyzing me, as if they’re waiting for me to say something. “What?” I snipe at them, and they instantly look away. It’s clear they know I’m still angry, and I faulter, just for a moment, when I recognize the feast in front of me. It looks delicious. I feel too angry to eat, but I force down the food in front of me. I need to build up my strength if I’m going to fight for my life in less than two weeks.

The boys’ conversation flows still, albeit uneasily. They’re thrown off by my presence, my indignation, and I let it die. I think of the strategy a victor pulled not too many years ago. She won by seeming so depressed and weak, and eventually, they all ignored her. I decide I should try to follow in her footsteps because if she can do it, maybe I can too.

Peeta asks Haymitch a question as I’m feeling almost too full for comfort. “So, who are the mentors for each District?”

Haymitch lists them, but I don’t care until I hear the name Johanna. I perk up as Haymitch catches my eye. Sardonically, he asks “What? You know her or something?”

“No. I just know of her. I saw her once, in twelve, during her victory tour,” I say, taking a slightly defensive stance to his tone. _I do know her, or at least, I feel like I do._ I briefly allow the memories to wash over me. I remember those nights during her games, my mind wandering to only thoughts of her. Those old butterflies return, and I will myself not to blush.

Haymitch moves onto the other Districts, but my mind stays in one place. “Do you know her,” I ask, completely interrupting him. He coughs, “who?”

I pause slightly. “Johanna,” I say sheepishly. He smiles drunkenly. “Why of course I do. She’s one of my favorite mentors. She was ruthless in her games.” I grin timidly, and Peeta stares at me. He gives me a questioning look and turns to our mentor. Haymitch recaps Johanna’s games, talking about her like she’s inhuman, like she’s some kind of animal. _There it is._ My resentment rears its head once again. Johanna has been reduced down to her actions in the games. I swallow hard. _Will that happen to me?_ I try to distract myself from that distressing thought.

“So, is she the same as before? Ruthless, I mean?” I ask the question, yet again interrupting him and bringing attention to my not so subtle interest in the girl.

Haymitch shakes his head, a glint of remorse flashing across his face. “No, sweetheart. I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Peeta asks another stupid question about starting a fire before I can ask Haymitch to elaborate. I want to interrupt them again, but I’d rather not let the embarrassment curtail the answers I desperately want about Johanna.

It’s strange knowing that she is still alive, and we are soon going to be in the same place again. The butterflies haven’t ceased, and I wonder why. I sit at the table, playing with my food, which is a privilege I’d never had before, and then it hits me. I take a big sip from my glass of water. _I had a crush on her._ This thought explains a lot of my past behaviors, but I know I don’t have a crush on her now. At least, I think I don’t.

I rise from the table quickly, making Haymitch and Peeta jump. “I’m tired,” I say halfheartedly. “I’m going to lay down.” Haymitch continues to eat, barely looking up from his meal. Peeta smiles at me and nods. I regard him for a moment, noticing his piercing blue eyes. _He does seem kind of familiar._

\---

I lay in bed waiting for sleep to descend, but it doesn’t come fast enough. I sit in silence as Johanna floats back into my thoughts. I didn’t understand my feelings for her back then, but I certainly do know. Madge helped me understand it all. She was the first girl I ever kissed, but that relationship has long been over.

I haven’t found the strength to look at someone in that way for a long time, and Gale; Gale certainly hasn’t let up in his efforts. He constantly begs for attention, and when I can’t give it to him, he gets angry with me. _Why am I thinking of Gale now?_ I know he’ll look after my family, and keep their mouths fed, but I know he wants more from me.

I feel this strange guilt as I glide closer and closer to the Capitol. He knows about me, and ‘my taste’, as he would call it, and yet, I still feel bad for not being able to love him. _Fuck it_ , I think to myself. It’s all a distant memory now. Twelve, Gale, Prim, all of it. I’m going into the games, and my last thought shouldn’t be why I can’t love Gale. I know why already.

I try to focus on my strategies and what my options may be. Maybe I should pretend to be helpless. That’s what Johanna did. _Oh god, Johanna_. I still view her in the same light. A ruthless, fearless, and smart girl. I guess young woman now. Either way, the moment I heard her name, I was reduced back down to my twelve-year-old self. The butterflies, the confusion, the almost addictive thought patterns; maybe, if even for a moment, the idea of Johanna could distract me from my impending doom, but I know nothing can truly distract me from this dread.


	4. The Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awaiting the beginning of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Katniss has her interview with Caesar Flickerman. Afterwards, she meets someone new and old all at the same time. Peeta reveals his secret to Caesar, and Katniss is forced to abandon her original strategy.

My dress burns and the crowd goes wild. They love the flames, and I consciously thank Cinna. He’s the only one in the entire Capitol that sees me for who I really am. _It’s that recognition thing again_ , but I put that thought to rest.

I glide offstage in a now unlit dress. Haymitch greets me in the waiting area as Peeta joins Caesar Flickerman on stage. “Good job, kid,” he says as he pulls me into a hug. He’s been sobering up since we’ve been in the Capitol. He releases me. “I didn’t do anything. They just like the dress.” Someone snickers. It’s a high-pitched laugh, so it couldn’t have come from Haymitch. Effie isn’t here yet, so my eyes dart around the room and that’s when I see her.

“Oh, right. Katniss, I wanted you to meet somebody more familiar with the strategy you want to take up.” I stand there, shell shocked. My jaw is slack as I take in the beautiful young woman. She stands tall, taller than I remember. She’s dressed impeccably, wearing a dark green suit, similar to the one she wore during her crowning ceremony. _She’s incredibly attractive._ I internally reel at the thought. _Jesus Christ. I can’t meet her like this. Not here. Not now._

“Katniss, this is Johanna Mason.” She strides from the back of the room toward me. She stands a foot away and shoots her arm out to shake my hand. Seconds pass as I stare blankly at her. She looks at me quizzically, and I quickly shake her extended hand after ogling at her. I feel a shock as our hands meet, and the butterflies are back in full force. Johanna’s smile faulters for a moment. _Maybe she felt that too._

Haymitch giggles to himself, and I shoot him a look. Johanna stands awkwardly. “So, what do you want to know?” She asks. _Her voice is lower than I remember_. _Maybe she has changed like Haymitch said._ I shift my feet and stare at the ground. _Oh God, what a question._ I want to know everything about her, and I nearly choke on my words. “I don’t really know,” I say. It’s a stupid answer. I wish I could calm my nerves.

She reaches toward me and tilts my chin up with her index finger. “There’s no need to be afraid of me. I’m not a tribute anymore. Just relax.” I stare at her. Her voice is liquid smooth, but I can only think of her screams in her games. I stand up straight and look into her deep brown eyes. Her hand drops from my chin, and I notice her arm muscles ripple under her blazer. I blush instantly and stumble over my words; “I’m not afraid of you,” I lie. I am afraid of her, rather I’m just extremely intimidated by her. Johanna crosses her arms, almost impressed by that notion. “I just don’t really know what to ask,” I pause for a moment, but a thought passes through my mind. _How did she learn how to track those career tributes?_ “Actually, I do have a question about-“

Before I can get my question out to the stunning woman, Peeta says it. The crowd coos, and Haymitch clasps his hands together. _She came here with me._ Johanna raises an eyebrow at me, and I shift back into the rage I’m so naturally used too. I want to explain to her that I don’t even know Peeta, let alone feel the same way about him, but it’s too late. Johanna recedes to the back of the room.

Peeta and Effie come into the waiting room. She’s congratulating him on a great interview, and I pounce. I shove Peeta into the wall, pushing my forearm into his neck. “What the hell was that?” I yell. “First you don’t want to train with me, and now you have a crush on me?” Haymitch pulls me off. I notice Johanna still in the back of the room, staring intently at the drama unfolding with a slight smirk on her face. Peeta stays silent. Haymitch smooths his shirt out. “Katniss, this could work. He’s making you look desirable,” he says as I glare at Peeta.

Johanna perks up. “I think she can do that on her own.” She pauses awkwardly. “I mean, with the dress and everything,” she stammers. She swipes her bangs out of her eyes. _Why does she look embarrassed?_ She folds her arms and leans against the wall. Haymitch sighs.

He looks to Peeta and I, motioning his hands to us. “Imagine it, the star-crossed lovers,” he says. I roll my eyes. “You know what, get him out of here.” Effie escorts the fear stricken Peeta out of the room and into the hallway. 

I bide my time until he is clearly out of the hallway and in the elevator. Once he’s gone, I waste no time in my response. “Good. Now that he’s gone, let’s talk about this,” Haymitch says as he approaches me. I take another step back, cornered against the wall. “No, Haymitch. I can’t- I don’t even like boys!” I practically shout the last words, willing the whole Capitol can hear me. Johanna bursts into her now familiar laughter.

Johanna slides over to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I shudder under her touch. Her hands are calloused, yet soft. “Well, Katniss. You’ve got to put on quite a show, but don’t worry. All of us have to at some point” I turn to her, “what?” She rolls her eyes, “I can’t give you any tips on survival. It was a fluke I survived in the first place. Just remember who you are, Katniss and don’t rush to a bow.” She pauses, regarding me as if she’ll never see me again. “Shoot well in there, Katniss.” She takes her hand off of my shoulder and slides away. “Wait,” I call out to her, but she’s gone before I can finish the sentence. _How does she know I can shoot?_ I watch her blazer flutter as the door closes behind her, which is all too reminiscent of that time in Twelve.

My skin burns where she last touched me as I’m escorted out of the waiting room with Haymitch. “Katniss, this could work,” he pleads. “I want to do what Johanna did,” I declare. “It won’t work now. You’ve got too much attention on you. Johanna slid into the background from the jump. It’s too late for you.” His last words ring out in the air. It is too late for me in many different contexts. An uncomfortable silence falls over us.

\--

We enter the apartment alone. Peeta isn’t here yet, which is good because my anger hasn’t subsided. _I can’t believe he said that and in front of her, of all people._ I sink into the couch as Haymitch waits. He joins me in a chair on the opposite side of a coffee table. My anger subsides for a moment. Suddenly, I feel so small in the world. People are watching me now, as Haymitch said. I feel like I’m about to cry.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask so quietly, it’s nearly a whisper. He practically jumps at my sudden shift in tone. _I bet he thought I was going to scream at him_. He relaxes. “What is it?” I avert my eyes. _This is getting embarrassing_. “Why did Johanna come to talk strategy if you knew it wouldn’t work?”

Haymitch pauses, searching for the right thing to say. “I wasn’t sure about it at the start, with you volunteering and the tribute parade.” He stumbles over his words as if he’s drunk, but he’s been sober for a while. “Peeta cemented it tonight. Everyone is going to know your name now. Well, everyone that matters. I thought that maybe seeing her would help you.”

“How would she help me?” I sneer at him. “I don’t know Katniss. Cheer you up maybe? You’ve asked about her so many times. I-“ He flails his arms around, exasperated. _He’s tired of me._

“I’ve asked about her goddamn strategy Haymitch.” I tighten my hands into fists again, but not in anger. There’s so much going on in my head, and maybe, if I tighten my hands hard enough, it’ll bring me back down. Another heavy silence falls upon us.

Despite the million things flying around in my head, only one question comes to mind. “What did Johanna mean?” Haymitch raises his eyebrows. “Like when she said I’m not the only one who has to put on a show?”

He laughs. “Wow, Katniss. Can’t take your mind off of her huh?” I glare at him. “Relax. Relax. I’m only kidding,” Haymitch practically pleads with me. “She just means that she’s the same as you.” I shoot him a quizzical look. “She feels the same way as you. Um- about boys, I mean.” I sit there, subduing a smile almost spreading across my face. The butterflies are back again. I take a long, shaky breath. “I can’t do it Haymitch. I just can’t.”

“You don’t have to love him Katniss. Just pretend to until you don’t have to anymore.” I stare at him, and he looks at me how a person would view a small child, which is exactly how I feel. “You’re asking me to be somebody else, to lie to everyone, to hide who I am. I just- I can’t do that.”

Haymitch cracks his knuckles and sighs. “Katniss, you will understand this later, but you have to do what you need to do in order to survive. This will help you, and as much as you don’t want it to, you can’t refute it. You need to do this to stay alive as long as possible. You’re not the only one who has to pretend.” _Like Johanna,_ I think to myself.

I sit there, stunned by Haymitch’s words. “You’re asking me to surrender myself in order to survive?” I whisper it in defeat. He nods his head as if those words hurt him as much as they do me. We sit quietly, the sounds of the Capitol floating in through the windows. I release my hands from the fists they had formed as it dawns on me that I need to do this.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” He sports a pained smile and gets up to leave. He puts a hand on the shoulder where Johanna had just been. It doesn’t feel the same as before. “You can do this Katniss.” I don’t like the way he says my name either. _I like it better when Johanna says it._ He leaves, and I’m again left alone to deal with my thoughts.

\---

I lay in bed waiting for sleep to overcome me, but it never does. Johanna fills my head yet again. I don’t understand why Haymitch invited her to come when he knew that the strategy wouldn’t work. His answer only confuses me more, yet it excites me at the same. _She’s the same as me,_ I think to myself. The confusion pauses as a smile creeps across my face. I practically scream it in my head, _She’s the same as me._

That happiness dies quickly, and Haymitch’s words return. _Why does he care about cheering me up, and why would that include Johanna? How does she know that I can shoot? Did they talk about me?_ I let the questions rest, and the thought of what Johanna said fills its space too quickly.

 _Just remember who you are._ The phrase is the one of my many recurring thoughts. It sounded like she understood, almost immediately, that I’ll have to surrender myself in order to survive. It was like for a moment, she recognized the battle I was about to face even if I didn’t see it coming right away. “She understands,” I whisper to myself, feeling some kind of strange comfort in that.

I go over her words again in my head. I don’t understand why she excites me so much. I’ll never see her again, I know that, but it’s this strange idea of her. My twelve-year-old self has taken over yet again, and the confusion deepens. I imagine what it would be like to actually speak to Johanna about something other than the games. Then the fear creeps in quickly: the games. I’m going into the arena in less than three days, and I wonder if I’ll be able to hold up the act. _The act of loving Peeta_. I shiver at the thought, the same way I shiver when I think of Gale and his actions over the years.

I place my hand where Johanna had touched me. The nerve endings in my shoulder have not stopped firing since she moved her hand away. _She knows my name. She spoke to me. Christ, she touched me. She understands. She’s the same as me._ My last thoughts are of her as sleep finally comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks so much for reading this! I really enjoy writing it, so thanks for the support !! 
> 
> It's a bit of a longer chapter this time because I'm experimenting with the lengths, so I hope y'all like it. Also, I wanted to make Katniss and Johanna meet before the 74th games cause I just thought it would be a really fun chapter to write! I think overall, it'll all tie together soon! 
> 
> Again, thanks so much for reading! Feel free to put any ideas or suggestions in the comments! Also thank you to Blurry_Lights for always being supportive!! <3


	5. The Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johanna's POV of Katniss in the Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the bottom :)

The Capitol’s viewing area for the victors is extravagant. It’s high glass walls, seating areas with luxurious furniture, endless options of food and drink: _It makes me fucking sick._ Every year we are forced to come back, to mentor tributes barely old enough to think for themselves and return to the traumas us victors are so eager to forget.

District Seven’s tributes have been dead for days, and yet, I cannot will myself to leave. Haymitch has agreed to let me to stay with him as a ‘strategy advisor,’ which is a bullshit way of saying I can’t leave the Capitol without ensuring Katniss survives.

I don’t know why I’m helping her or why I’m so invested in the survival of a girl I barely know, but I just can’t go home knowing she’s in there alone. _I wish I could be in there with her._ I cringe at the thought.

My interest in Katniss was abrupt. When I was watching the reaping for District Twelve, I recognized her. During my victory tour, she saw me, the real me, crumbling on that stage in front of her, and she unknowingly kept me alive. Her words, albeit brief, have stuck in my mind for years. _It’s not fair that she’s here. She is the only one who sees the world with a conscience_ , _but that’s what the Capitol does. It crushes us all, steals our humanity and spirits_. 

The explosion makes me jump. I was so lost in my thoughts; I didn’t notice Katniss attempting to blow the Careers’ loot sky high. I will Katniss to run as the Career tributes make it back to the crater which was once their supplies. She does, thank god, and sprints to find Rue.

 _Rue is an unlikely ally,_ I think, _but they work together._ Katniss’s tenderness towards the young tribute is moving, but I questioned it from the start. _She will slow her down._ I’m yet again interrupted from my thoughts, when Rue screams for Katniss. My stomach feels like it’s in my throat as Katniss’s face drops, and she sprints to the girl. It’s clear to me now that Katniss is a fierce protector. She volunteered for sister at the reaping, and now, with Rue, it’s obvious. I feel something stir in my chest. _I would like to be protected like that._

Katniss approaches the small girl, caught in one of the Career’s nets, and she quickly cuts the her out of it. Just when they think they’re safe, the District One tribute arrives, and Katniss fires an arrow directly into the boy’s heart. _That’s my girl._ I offer a proud grin, but Katniss doesn’t look glad to have taken out the other tribute.

Katniss watches Rue pull the spear from her chest. I grimace and the pride deflates immediately. I watch Katniss, harrowed and pale, take care of Rue in her final moments. She sings a lullaby to the young girl, as the life dims from her eyes. When Rue takes her last breath, Katniss releases a guttural cry. I release a shaky breath and watch her scream in pain and anger.

I feel a fire in my chest. I dry heave for a moment, yet again reminded of my own games. My pain rises out of Katniss’s cries. _I wish I could have saved her from all of this._ I collect myself, keeping my slight breakdown brief. _The Capitol is not a good place to lose yourself._

In a world devoid of empathy, there Katniss sits; arranging flowers around Rue’s body, decimated by the loss. She’s a beacon of pain, compassion, and rage. I stand there, eyes transfixed on the screen, watching Katniss unravel. Her cries ring out across the Capitol and the Districts, and I almost reach out to the screen. The room is silent, everyone focused on the girl on fire. I scan the room for any chance of emotion, and all I catch is Haymitch wiping a single tear from his cheek.

I see myself, young and fragile, in Katniss. Every part of this moment reminds me of my time in the arena. I had lost my district partner to a spear in the chest, the same fatal blow that took Rue’s life. I watched him die right in front of me, just like Katniss. All of these similarities and, yet, Katniss’s reaction differs from mine. Her and I’s actions are rooted in anger, but the difference lies in who it’s directed at. I went after the careers who killed my partner as if his blood was on their hands, which it was, I admit, but _who put us there? Who forced those tributes to kill him?_ Katniss offered Rue comfort in death. She arranged flowers around her body, giving her more honor than the Capitol ever could. That’s the difference between Katniss and I, she understands the bigger picture better than I did at that age. _She knows who the real enemy is._

A strange devotion rises within me. I storm over to Haymitch, who is watching intently. He doesn’t seem to have recovered from watching Rue’s death. Softly, I put a hand on his forearm, startling him. I regard him coolly, and he stares back at me, waiting for what I have to say. For a moment, I can’t find the words. “What is it Johanna?” He asks expectantly. He seems like he wants to be alone. He’s always been more sensitive than the rest of us, which is probably why he drinks so much. “Haymitch, you have to help her. She has to win,” I whisper. “I’m trying to. I can’t-“ he pleads with me.

My patience faulters. Interrupting him, I command, “Haymitch. She has to win. I don’t care what it takes, fucking help her.” I spin away from him quickly. Katniss is still arranging the flowers around Rue’s body as tears threaten to spill over my eyelids. The magnitude of the recent events has only just hit me. To see Katniss so vulnerable and pained, _it breaks my fucking heart._ I speed out of the viewing area. _I can’t take watching Katniss like this anymore_.

\---

When I make it to Haymitch’s apartment, I collapse onto the couch. I debate pulling up a small screen that would play the games, but I decide not to. _It’s too much._

I rip off my blazer and slam it to the ground with frustration. These days I can only let my feelings out with physical aggression. _I wish I had my axe._ _If I did, I chop this whole room into fucking pieces._

Unfastening the top buttons of my blouse, I try to subdue the rising anger. I haven’t felt this kind of rage since my family was killed. _When I watch Katniss in the games, it feels like I’m losing her_. I let the thought ruminate in my mind. _It feels like I’m losing her, but she was never mine to begin with._

My fascination with the girl is strange. In fact, it’s unlike me to have a soft spot for someone I barely know. I haven’t felt connected to a person in years, yet despite our limited times together, it feels like Katniss is a friend. The first time Haymitch brought her up in conversation, saying that Katniss admired me or some other bullshit, I nearly spilt my drink. We have talked about her a number of times, and I find myself edging closer to the idea that she might be special to me, more than just an acquaintance, more than friends.

I take a labored breath and reach for a pillow. I cling to it, nuzzling into the soft fabric. _Katniss scares the shit out of me._ She makes me feel like myself again, like I can trust her, and she trusts me, which are feelings I haven’t felt since I was reaped.

I let the memories of our brief encounters wash over me. She seemed so nervous when we first met, and that look on her face when she shook my hand. _She felt that shock like I did._ As sleep threatens me and my eyelids begin to droop, I pray that Katniss stays alive, but most of all, that she just remembers who she really is. At this point, that is the only weapon she truly has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks so much for reading!! So sorry for the delay on this chapter. I got super busy with school, but I should be updating more frequently now. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to mix it up with Johanna's POV for this chapter. I thought I could add some more context of how Johanna is feeling. 
> 
> Anyway, as usual please leave comments or suggestions below as I really do appreciate all of your input! Thank you guys so much for reading. Hope you all are safe and healthy :)


	6. Back to Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss and Johanna talk after the crowning ceremonies.

The crown gleams on my head, and President Snow doesn’t believe me. President Snow doesn’t believe I’m in love with Peeta. _This is bad. This is really fucking bad._

I stand with Peeta on stage. My hand grips his so tightly, I think I might be hurting him. The choice I made with the nightlock was incredibly stupid, but I couldn’t stop myself _. I owed Peeta_. He once saved me from my own death, and this was the retribution. The thing I can’t justify is my actions towards the Capitol. _They deserve it. The embarrassment, the shame, but what will be the cost?_ For a moment, I controlled the games, and that was dangerous. President Snow knows it too, and I can feel the target forming on my back. 

My eyes scan the dark room, filled with Capitol citizens dressed in their best. The spotlights flash over them, and I catch glimpses of their beaming elation. They cheer for us, scream for us even. _They’ll believe anything. They celebrate the violence they inflict on the Districts. They take delight in the trauma I now have._

My mind spins as the hate I hold tightens inside my chest. Bile rises in my throat as the disgust and resentment build. My fists tighten, and tears well, threatening to spill over. I flit my eyes around the room, searching for some kind of anchor to quell the fire burning within me.

Suddenly, my eyes fall onto Johanna. She stands smug in the back of the room with Haymitch. _She hates them just as much as I do._ Our eyes meet, and I still myself. Her face drops as she studies my countenance, and she faulters. Her pride dissipates. She shoots me an empathetic look that drips with sincerity. The tightness in my chest releases, and the tears dry up. The fire in me dims for a moment. A warm aura radiates around her, and I get sucked into its protective glow. It feels like it’s only her and I in the room.

Her eyes bore into me as the roar of the crowd dissipates, despite their perpetual jeers and celebratory cries. I haven’t taken a breath since I’ve laid my eyes on her. She gives me an earnest look, and mouths “you did what you had to do. Don’t blame yourself for it.”

I stare at her, and I’m instantly brought back to her ever so short time in District Twelve. Her on her victory tour, standing on the stage, small and childlike. I question what I look like. _Probably the same._ I take a deep breath. The solace I felt in her words; _maybe she felt the same way when I said them._ Questions fly around my mind, but one thing stands: _She remembers._

Before I can reply or even give any sign of acknowledgement, Peeta tugs at my hand. “We can leave now,” he says meekly, offering me a small grin. I nod my head thankfully, and we walk off stage. With every step I take, I shout it inside my mind; _She remembers._

\---

Peeta and I are ushered offstage by an avox. We weave through the area backstage, avoiding avoxes engrossed in their work and aimless gamemakers. We arrive at a bright orange room in the back of the theatre. Peeta and I’s hands haven’t come apart. Haymitch emerges from the shadows and welcome us into the room. It’s warm light beckons from the doorway, guiding us out from the darkness that surrounds us.

Stepping into the room, Haymitch hugs Peeta and I uncomfortably. “Well done up there,” he says emphatically. I regard his yellowed faced and puffy eyes; _he’s drunk, tired or both._ Effie applauds from the velvet couch she’s perched on. Her dress piles around her as if she’s sitting on a throne made of tule. I’m still in a daze from what happened on stage, my mind running over what Johanna said on a loop, willing myself to believe it.

Peeta drops my hand as he sits with Effie, who’s babbling about some Capitol bullshit while the boy scoops up the fabric of her dress tenderly to make room for himself. I stand by the doorway as the weight of President’s snow disbelief slowly descends upon to me. My head spins and my vision blurs. I try to steady myself but to no avail. I lean against the door frame for support, but my grip weakens. My breath hitches as I feel myself slide down the frame. I’m about to collapse when a warm hand grips my forearm and steadies me. The hand is calloused, yet soft. Green fingernails press lightly into my skin. My eyes trail up the arm of my savior, and my eyes meet hers. _Johanna._

“You ok, Katniss?” She asks softly, still holding me up. Worry and sincerity cross her face. “Yeah. I’m just tired.” I lie, but Johanna sees right through my words. She squeezes my arms reassuringly as I try to collect myself.

I run my eyes up and down her body making sure she’s real, and I’m not just hallucinating her in my daze. Her fitted green suit is wrinkled and well worn, and her brown eyes burn into me. Heavy bags billow underneath her coffee irises, as if she has not slept in a week. She regards me with the same sincere look. Her strong and steady arms still grip my own, practically holding me up. _I feel safe under her touch. A kind of safety I have not felt since my father died._

Smiling ever so softly, she offers a deep breath. Her chest rises and falls as I catch a glimpse of a scar over her collar bone. I mimic her, trying to calm my nerves still. Her eyes fall onto mine yet again. They shimmer with ambition. _She looks like she’s glad to see me._

A moment between us passes, our gazes unbroken as I am sucked back into her aura. She asks me quietly, “do you want to get out of here?” I instantly snap back into reality and out of the small universe that had formed between us.

I pause for a moment, holding the breath that I had tried so hard to steady. The question knocks me off guard, but _I want this_. “Yes, please,” I manage to barely whisper. She grins, dropping her arms. Her hand locks into mine where Peeta was only a moment ago. _It feels different._ Peeta’s hand holding mine only offered me a foothold onto reality, keeping me aware of the sick world we are in. Johanna’s, however, feels safe. A strange solace engulfs me as she grips my hand, leading me out of the room.

My dress glimmers in the dark of the hallway as Peeta’s head perks up. “Where are you going?” He asks, words hinting at his new slight possessiveness. I grimace as Johanna turns back toward the doorway. Her suit bulges over the muscles in her arm as she grips tighter on my hand. “To get some air!” She yells it, and Haymitch snickers. Johanna pulls me along the hallway and out of sight from the bright orange room.

\---

Relief fills me as I gulp in the fresh air; my anxiousness shrinking with each breath I take. Johanna stands close beside me. We stare out onto the Capitol skyline. Life bustles and parties rage below us. The breeze feels cold yet refreshing as goose bumps prickle my skin. The balcony she led us to is peaceful, calming even.

My hand rests on the railing, comfortable silence falling upon us as we take in the Capitol’s lights and sounds. _They feel so much joy after the Games. It’s sick._ I, yet again, am reminded of the cruelty of the Capitol and a single tear slides down my cheek. I grip the railing, knuckles turning white with the pressure.

Johanna places her hand over mine, and my tight grip releases. She regards me for a moment and wipes the tear off my cheek with a tender touch. “Are you okay Katniss?” Each word is riddled with concern.

Turning to her, I sigh, shaking my head. _I feel so small._ “You know, no one has asked me that since I’ve got back.” 

“No one ever really does,” Johanna admits. Her hand still rests on mine, and I relish in her touch. That same solace washes over me.

“I don’t know how to feel,” I say. My mind flashes over the events of the games. The cornucopia. The carnage. The career tributes. Cato. The boy from District One. Rue. Peeta. _The nightlock._ I inhale sharply. President Snow’s disbelief looms over me, and I fear it won’t ever go away.

Johanna runs her thumb over the knuckle of index finger. With each stroke of her thumb, the butterflies return despite the tumult inside my mind. Something in my chest stirs as Johanna turns to face me. She leans casually on the railing, thumb still drawing circles over my skin. “I can understand that,” she says almost pained.

A moment passes us by again as the butterflies rise in my stomach. We stare at one another, our gazes unwavering. The stirring in my chest grows, and my heart beats so hard it feels like it’s going to burst through my chest. The thought of President Snow feels less dangerous now. The safety Johanna radiates settles upon me, and I try to forget the games, forget the death, and certainly, forget the fucking berries.

Johanna breaks the silence first. “You know what you did with the nightlock?” She pauses, standing tall with pride. “Katniss, that was incredible.” She beams, exuding a kind of cynical satisfaction. “I knew you had it in you. That was amazing, Katniss. You are fucking amazing.”

I wait, trying to collect my thoughts. _She knew I had what in me? What is she trying to say?_ My eyes scan her for any kind of reason she would say this kind of thing, but her countenance doesn’t waver. Tentatively, I mumble “I don’t understand what you mean.”

She raises her eyebrows as if she’s surprised at my confusion. “Blaming it all on the star-crossed lovers bullshit.” She waits for some kind of recognition from me, but nothing comes. She continues. “You and I both know that you just wanted to undermine the Capitol, even if you didn’t know it then. You had them in the palm of your hand,” she exclaims. 

I stiffen with every word that comes out of her mouth. I shift my hand out from under her tender touch, startling her. _Undermine the Capitol? Why would she think that?_ A moment passes, and suddenly, clarity submerges me in a truth I could drown in. _This is a test. President Snow sent her here to test me._ “I didn’t try to undermine the Capitol.” I pause, trying to muster up the courage to yet again surrender myself for survival. “Johanna, I did it to save Peeta.” My words ooze with dishonesty. _I was never a good actor_.

“What?” A coy confusion crosses her face. She laughs, and I stay silent. Any kind of softness has left my body. _This is a test. I have to defend myself._ Her coyness dissipates as my silence grows heavier. Timidly, she asks “you’re joking right?”

“Johanna, why are you here?” I growl. I repeat it over and over in my head. _This is a test._ She shrinks back from my sudden ferocity.

“Because I wanted to see you, to help you. I don’t know-” she says, clambering over her words, eyes burning with embarrassment. She sighs heavily, “I know what it’s like to be in there. I just thought- I don’t know.” She pauses for a moment, as if my words have just dawned on her. “You love him?”

I stand my ground despite my urge to scream at her that I don’t. “I do.” I grimace. _It hurts to lie to her._

“Oh, come on Katniss. Don’t be like that-“ She practically begs, motioning her hands at me.

“I love him Johanna. I didn’t try to undermine the Capitol,” I lie with steadfast conviction. _I fucking hate this._

Johanna deflates. Her usual coy demeanor is replaced with something I’ve only seen once before. _She looks like she did in District Twelve._ “Why are you lying to me?” She whispers it, as if all of her strength has left her.

“I’m not. I love him Johanna.” I lie again. _This is a test._

Johanna stands frozen, shocked by my statement. Betrayal crosses her face for a moment, until anger consumes her countenance. So many times, I had seen Johanna switch from rage to helplessness, but this was the complete opposite of the tactic she used in her games. For a brief moment, I saw the hurt I’m causing Johanna. Before I can choke out an apology, I’m cut off. “You’re a coward Katniss,” she seethes.

I jump at the statement, my own anger rising. I reel, “what did you say?”

She steps closer to me, pointing a finger at my chest. “You’re a coward and a liar.” The safety and protection I had once felt with Johanna dies with her every word.

The anger in me collapses, and I cower before her, trying to hold onto the small tenacity I have left. “I’m not lying,” I exclaim, but my delivery fails. The instinct to protect myself slips away as the bitterness in Johanna’s voice builds. 

Johanna’s anger and betrayal rears its head. “You are, Katniss, and you’re lying to me of all people. I was there Katniss! I know what you said to Haymitch. I was there for fuck’s sake!” Her anger burns for not a moment more. Abruptly, she transforms into a much more terrifying mood. Her calm, calculated, and cool brutality replaces any sign of connection to me. “You don’t have to lie Katniss. I’m your friend,” she says as if she’s given up.

I pause, taken aback by the sudden shift in her tone. I try to quell the urge to reach out to touch her. _She thinks we’re friends._ I clench my fists nervously. _This will be the final blow; I can feel it._ “Well, it changed for me. I love him, Johanna.”

I wait for her response, but she says nothing. She turns from me and leans on the railing, hanging her head in defeat. The air between us burns, thick with tension. She turns to me in a swift movement, standing tall. “Fuck you, Katniss,” she growls.

I take a step back from Johanna. Her mercilessness sending me into a state of shock. “Excuse me?” I manage to squeak out. 

“I stayed here for you. I stayed here long after the district seven tributes were dead. I tried to help you. I helped you, and yet here you are. A liar and a coward,” she yells. Her unyielding cruelty drains me of any kindness I had left for the girl.

I want to defend myself one last time; try to explain that I’m just trying to protect myself, trying to protect Peeta, and most of all, trying to protect Prim. But I know I can’t. There’s no way to explain it, so I push on, knowing that I hurt her with every lie I spew. “I’m not-“

She cuts me off. “Drop it Katniss. Just drop it. I gave you one piece of advice, one fucking piece, and yet you stand here, lying to me.” Exasperated, Johanna pushes past me toward the exit.

Tears streak down my cheeks. _I didn’t realize the act of loving Peeta would stretch so far._ Johanna’s brutality is something I am not used to, nor did I ever want to get used to it. _I didn’t want to be someone she hated. I wanted to be her friend, more than friends at one time in my life._

I know I shouldn’t have to lie to her, but President Snow has a way of getting his hands on every pure thing in his country, crushing it under his iron fist. I _am destroying myself to protect my family, not to hurt her_ , I plead to myself inside my head _,_ but my unconvincing tone and my utter dishonesty are something I am not used to. Despite all of it, I persist. _This is a test._ “I’m not lying. I love him,”

Johanna turns to me. Betrayal, disappointment, and rage flash across her face like lightening, and again it fades as quickly as it came. She is once again enveloped in her cool fury. “Fuck you, Katniss,” she says as swiftly exits.

Her words ring out in the air. The weight of everything crashes upon me like a tidal wave. I sink to the floor, chest heaving. My eyes burn into where she was just standing, stroking my hand. The pain in her voice is etches itself into my mind. _I never thought I’d be subject to Johanna’s cruelty. I thought she understood this. I thought she understood me._

I settle to the cold, hard granite floor, leaning my head against the railing. I heave, a never-ending river of tears stream down my cheeks. I try to hold onto some mainstay in my life to relieve myself of this agonizing fight with Johanna, but I can’t. My thoughts settle on my father. _I haven’t felt like this since he died._ The realization rocks me to my core, and I howl. I gasp for air between the cries, and I can’t take my mind off of him. _Would he be proud of me? Would he know what I should do?_

My mind races over the thoughts of the last month. _My father, the games, the nightlock, President Snow, Peeta, Johanna._ I cry until there is nothing left within me. Entirely spent, I feel myself slip in and out of consciousness. 

Eventually, Haymitch finds me asleep on the floor, my yellow dress dusty from the granite below me. Barely conscious, he leads me down to the train station. I can smell the liquor on his breath. “We’re going home” he says.

\---

When we arrive at the platform, it’s empty and devoid of any Capitol noise. _It hasn’t been this quiet since I was in the arena._ I lean into Haymitch, and he hugs his arm around me. _His touch doesn’t offer the same solace as Johanna’s did._

At long last, he leads me to the train car that serves as my bedroom. The room is dark, and a pair of plain clothes are draped across the bed. Haymitch silently leaves me, the sound of the door sliding shut making me jump.

I carefully take off my dress, the one Cinna so carefully designed for me. I stare into the mirror. _Is this who I am now? A victor? A killer? A star-crossed lover who has feelings for a boy she barely knows? A liar? A coward?_ I shake in anger. _This isn’t who I am, but this is what they’ll think of me as now. This is what she’ll think of me._

I throw myself into bed, disgusted. I weep, pulling the covers over me trying to block out of the rest of the world. I fail. _The only things that matter are stuck inside my head._

Unable to fall asleep, I stare blankly at the ceiling, decimated. I can only think of Johanna now. _Her pain, her anger, her cruelty. All things I never wanted to be the cause of._ I pick at a hangnail on my finger, ignoring the pain radiating from it. _But I am,_ I think to myself. _I am._

_I wish she was here. I wish I could tell her the truth. I wish I knew who the real enemy is. But, here I am, heading home to a District far away from hers. There’s no way to contact her, I’m sure. I want to apologize. I want to explain, but I can’t. What’s done is done._

Morning comes, and as the sun rises, Johanna’s words ring out in my mind. _Fuck you, Katniss._ Streamlining my way home through the districts, it occurs to me. _That was the last time I’ll ever see her._ As each second passes and landmarks in the distance flash by as the train speeds by them, I am farther away from Johanna. Resentment builds at the thought of her. _I want to forget her and everything that happened._ I push her out of my mind, and soon enough she becomes a stranger to me once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading this! Please leave your ideas, opinions, or suggestions in the comments because I am totally open to criticism!! 
> 
> Again, thanks for reading and I hope y'all are staying safe and healthy! <3


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